The Last Five Years
by thatenchantedplace
Summary: "Oh great, now we're taking relationship advice from Lily Van der Woodsen. " (Nate x Jenny and Dan x Blair)
1. The Journalist

_September 2014_

Nate was a hands on editor. The sort that decided on the story and on the detail of the story. He had already planned out a fashion week arc, had already decided on sending two of his most capable staff to Europe to cover London. But ,as with the rest of his life, Blair Waldorf would change his trajectory, pointing him down a different path, like an efficient if exhausted air traffic controller.

"Hello stranger." Even sleep deprived his high school sweetheart was beautiful. He kissed her on the cheek and handed Dorota yet another gift for Henry. "You can't just buy the godfather of the year title Archibald."

"I know, I know, I've been swamped," he told her, taking a cheerful Henry from her arms.

"Huh. Fashion week?" She sat, gestured for him to follow.

"Of course. I hear you're keeping a low profile this year?" Blair shrugged.

"The company has enough momentum to keep ticking over for the year. I like to be involved but right now motherhood takes priority." She paused and he suddenly had the feeling that she was about to throw him a curve ball.

"What?"

"Well, having said that, I was thinking of expanding the company. In the future."

"Blair that's great." From his lap Henry gurgled approval.

"Hm. Have you been following the fashion news in London?"

"I was just starting to- "

"There's a very interesting designer who's making waves there. Just graduated from Saint Martin's."

"I know the school." Blair gave him a searching look.

"I thought you would. She's American. A talented one."

"And you want to poach her?" Blair smiled.

"I want to bring her back." She held up a file. The photograph on the cover made Nate's heart sputter.

"Jenny?!"

"The reason you know the school?"

"Of course." Dan and Serena had flown out for Jenny's graduation in June. But he would have known regardless. "You want me to convince her." It was a statement, not a question.


	2. The Sartorialist

London was at its most beautiful in the autumn. Four years may have passed since she'd set up residence there, but Jenny Humphrey could still see the city that had offered her sanctuary through the eyes of a tourist. She took her time strolling through St James' Park, knowing full well that once she'd arrived at work, time would be working against her.

"J? You have to go and pick up the wood for the set at three. But try and be back by four because we have to pick a girl to replace Bri-"

"What happened to Bri?"

"Bulimia and a breakdown."

"Why do I always pick the crazy ones?" Jenny asked no one in particular. Eric ignored her.

"Also you need to finish the dress."

"Oh, I know." She also had to attend fittings, pick nail varnish colours, shoes and finalise the song list.

"Are you scared?" Alex was one of the more sentimental models she'd hired, a Russian beauty with an international education.

"Terrified. It's not even my first show, so I don't think I deserve to be."

"Was your first show scary?" Jenny smiled at the memory.

"It was everything I ever wished for."

* * *

When he was first pointed in her direction, he didn't recognise her. The young woman kneeling by the model wore a sheer sepia blouse tucked into an ivory skirt. Her hair barely hit her shoulders and was more platinum than peroxide. But she was still skinny as hell, still blessed with ridiculously long limbs, was still at one with the clothes she was working on. She felt eyes on her and turned her head. He noted the encrusted dolphin pendant at her throat and the scuffed Doc Martens on her feet. Still Jenny.

She stood frozen in place, wondering if she had dreamed him into reality.

"Nate?" They embraced awkwardly. He smelled lavender; she, expensive cologne. His eyes looked past her.

"Is that the dress?" It was fabulous. Bronze silk, loosely draped, with a strip of chiffon cinching the waist. She smiled at him.

"Alex get out of here. You don't want to go near this one."

"Hey, for your information I have been practically celibate these past couple of years."

"Oh I know, Dan keeps me updated." His smile slipped.

"I'm sorry it came to that. I'm sorry I didn't call."

"Oh Nate," she laughed. "It was hardly your fault."


	3. A Walk Up Long Acre

They ate ice cream, taking advantage of the early autumnal sunshine as they meandered through Covent Garden, trading pieces of information to fill in the blank slate of years lost. He started from the end and reversed, realising he'd forgotten how wonderful a listener she was.

"Dan told me he would out himself. I'm glad he did, it was a pretty major conspiracy to keep going."

"You knew the whole time?"

"Not the whole time. I figured it out after you graduated; I was Queen, I thought I could use it."

"Huh. I see you ditched the eyeliner."

"I see you ditched the man bangs." They chuckled, ice broken.

"Hey I meant what I said back there. That dress is...incredible."

"It's based on a bird of paradise. The whole show is nature themed."

"I'm a little surprised. Jenny Humphrey and colour? Weren't you all about the black and the emo- "

"Hey," she whacked his shoulder playfully. "I had to get my inspiration from somewhere."

"What was your inspiration in New York?" She looked at him, willing him to read the answer in her eyes.

"I can't remember."

* * *

Eric was waiting for her at The Square.

"I'm sorry, I know I'm late," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

"Hey relax, I know you're busy. I mean the show's tomorrow."

"Right. Sure." Eric knew Jenny better than he knew himself. She was clearly on edge and his initial theory of nerves fell by the wayside as she turned in monosyllabic replies to his questions. If Jenny had been that nervous she wouldn't even have turned up. She would be pulling an all nighter in the studio. He waited. Finally, as the crème caramel arrived she snapped. "Eric?"

"Jennifer."

"Nate's in town. For Fashion Week. He says hi."

"Is that why you're late?"

"Yup. I promised we'd have dinner on Thursday. He leaves for Italy at the end of the week. You're invited." Eric was silent. "What?"

"Nothing. I just... he always turns up."

"I know."

"You don't need him anymore J."

"I know." It had been a long time since she'd needed him. But she wasn't sure if she'd quite stopped _wanting_ him yet.


	4. The View From the Frow

Nate had spent his life in New York City, had dated enough socialites to know a thing or two about fashion. He spent the week at the edgier shows, interviewing everyone from Rachel Zoe to Brooke Davis Scott. He updated a blog daily, sometimes hourly and lived on London street food, missing the taco and coffee trucks of NYC.

He was enjoying himself, yet come Tuesday night, was so nervous about Jenny's show that he had a rare return of his teenage insomnia. Ridiculous when you thought about it. Losing sleep over the career prospects of a girl he hadn't seen in years.

_Even you had a crush on her._

Wednesday dawned sunnier than summer and had Jenny praising the Great British Weather. Somehow, she got through the show perched behind the curtains, occasionally glancing out to see if she could see Eric's outline in the dark but managing only to locate Anna Wintour.

Nate had no idea how he'd ended up in one of the front rows squeezed between Betty Meade and Eric Van der Woodsen. He was well aware he'd broken some rule of fashion etiquette and that people were shooting daggers at him from behind. Eric had slipped in at the last minute and had lapsed into silence after a whispered greeting. He found he didn't mind, captivated instead by the avant garde luxury of the show. Jenny had mixed opulence with street cred, taking risks in a famously risk friendly Fashion Week. He'd arrived in London expecting to see gutsy, smart fashion but no other virgin designer had proved quite so gutsy or commercially viable - in his eyes at least. But then again, J was no virgin. Still, as the runway glittered in a swirl of liquid silk, tailored outlines and satin heels, he found himself impressed.

"The girl has talent," he heard someone say.

When the lights came up and the models strolled down one last time, the applause was thunderous. He was one of the first to stand, but others weren't far behind, taking their cue from the front row. Jenny emerged, face flushed, clad in a grey shift of her own design. He beamed at her.

"Why do you look so proud?" Surprised he turned to look at Eric.

"What?"

"Why do you look so proud when you've spent the last five years ignoring her? Look Nate, I like you. But Jenny's got her life on track and she's happy here. Don't screw it up for her."


	5. And I'm Still Hurting

He was only on his second glass of whisky when the doorman rang up to ask if he was expecting a Miss J Humphrey. He knew he was screwed anyway and his judgement had disappeared before he'd even touched the alcohol, so he let her in.

"You were supposed to meet me at Nobu an hour and a half ago. What's going on Nate?" In answer he tossed her a letter.

"It's from Blair." Jenny frowned

"What, she hasn't heard of email?"

"It's Blair." She gave him a small smile, opened it and began to read. At some point she sank onto Chuck's couch – this was after all the Bass' apartment - and he shuddered at the thought that the two could, even in the most indirect way, be in contact again. Her blue eyes found his.

"Do you know what this says?"

"Something along the lines of, I want you to come and work for Waldorf designs?"

"She'd give me control of my own sub brand. At twenty two." Nate shrugged.

"Yeah, well. You and Blair were always one of a kind."

"Why did you stand me up?" A beat. "Nate?"

"Because you belong here." He spread his arms. "Clearly. And coming back to New York, even after all this time, it's dangerous J. You know what the city does to you."Perhaps the whiskey had impacted more than he'd thought. Her eyes were far too bright for his liking.

"Aren't we a little past that whole thing?"

"What?"

"The whole you saving Little J thing Nate! I do not need your help any more to save me from the big bad wolf."

"He got you." She gazed at him uncomprehendingly.

"What?"

"The last wolf got you." Too late he realised the brightness in her eyes were actually tears.

"Yeah well, you didn't seem so worried at the time."

"Jenny-"

"You sided with Blair."

"I didn't side with anyone."

"That's the point. The one freaking time I actually needed your help to save me from myself, from everyone who hated me, you did nothing Nate. You didn't even care. At least Chuck apologised. After the fuss you made over Damien, you just... "

"I couldn't talk to you."

"Because the holy virgin had been tainted?" He flinched at her tone.

"No. It was my fault. I know," he dropped his gaze "I knew you were looking for me and you found him. But you ended up wanting him instead. Everyone does." For a second he thought she might slap him. She very nearly did.

"Don't you dare make this about you. Don't you – he took advantage of me. And I didn't choose him over you, I chose him because he was there and you were with my sister, Nate." A tear snaked down her cheek and he had to suppress the urge to wipe it away. "I couldn't choose you, don't you get that? It wasn't then that I needed you - I made that decision, I took responsibility for that decision, you _fool_!" She was shouting now and it felt awful, but at the same time, it felt wonderfully overdue. "I needed you to be my friend, to acknowledge my existence after the fact that I screwed Chuck. And you just stuck your head in the sand and pretended like it never happened. Who does that Nate?! "

He pulled her to him, arms securely around her as she attempted to stifle her violent sobs in his shirt.

"I'm sorry," he muttered into her hair. "I am so, so sorry." He couldn't fault a word of it. From the day he'd run into her outside Blair's seventeenth birthday party, he'd done his best to protect fresh faced Jenny Humphrey from the world, had put her and her Brooklynite freshness up on his untouchable pedestal only to find that the UES got in everywhere and that a pedestal only gave her a greater height from which to fall. And it had been far easier to pretend the Jenny and Chuck debacle had never happened than to acknowledge that his best friend from kindergarten had taken Nate's place yet again.

_You're a really special girl Jenny._

She laughed awkwardly as she extracted herself from his embrace and wiped away her tears.

"Sorry about your shirt." Nate smiled at her.

"Friends?"

"Sure."


	6. Goodbye Until Tomorrow

By the time they left the apartment, it was too late for most of the restaurants he knew but Jenny had spent enough seasons in the city to know of a few still open eateries.

"This," he told her, as they gorged on beef beigels in a 24 hour Brick Lane bakery "is heaven."

"Nate Archibald eating corned beef on mustard," she giggled "Oh if Gossip Girl could see you now."

"Oh you mean your brother? Do you want to take an instagram pic to show him?" Nate was glad the laughter had returned to their relationship, was glad they'd aired most of the misunderstandings that had plagued them – although a certain winter ball still seemed off limits. Jenny ordered some strudel.

"Careful Humphrey. You may be a size six now but one day this'll all catch up with you."

"Hush Archibald."

"Where's Eric anyway?"

"Having dinner with Betty Meade's nephew." She glanced at him with a speculative look in her eye. "So tell me manwhore...did Sage break your heart?" He hung his head.

"Wow. Dan really did keep you in the loop."

"Only because dating a minor is, well, not you. Didn't it freak you out when I was a sophomore and you were a senior?"

"Hey at least I could legally get into Sage's pants. I checked." Jenny laughed but he knew she wasn't about to let it drop. "Sage went to Yale."

"Smart girl."

"Oh yeah. And I had to let her go."

"You liked her though."

"Yes, yes I did but not the crazy kind of like that Chuck and Blair have or Dan and Serena have. I mean those guys just kept coming back to each other, you know? So I figured that if it's meant to be, whoever she is, I'll keep coming back to her."

It had gone very quiet in the corner of the bakery.

"What about you?"

"Nothing serious. Designing kind of takes it out of me. In a good way."

"I know what you mean."

"Yeah - Dan did say you were a little workaholic these days."

"This coming from the girl who skipped school to pursue her dream?" She groaned and lifted her palm to her face.

"I hate talking to people who knew me back then."

"You can't hate it that much. You're coming back." Her hand fell away.

"Says who?"

"New York's your home. And I've been nothing but a jerk to you and yet you're still here, presumably because you want to accept Blair's offer."

"You are an excellent messenger but I'm actually going to email her."

"So it's a yes?"

"Well, J for Waldorf has a ring to it, don't you think?"

He walked her to her flat, both knowing that he was jetting out for Milan the next morning.

"So. I'll see you in the city?"He said. She turned and gave him one of her impulsive hugs.

"I'll hold you to that Archibald. Scope out my competition in Italy. Oh and in Paris after." She disappeared and he forced himself to walk away. Again.


	7. Once Upon A Wishbone

_November 2014_

She returned to the city at the point fall met winter and took a second to savour her newfound ability to stand in Grand Central and not be photographed. Still, even without Gossip Girl, news was news and she moved quickly to the waiting town car.

Seemingly minutes later the elevator doors split and she emerged onto a familiar chequered floor, feeling, for a second, fourteen again.

"Welcome Miss Jenny."

"Dorota, hey. How's your baby?"

"Wonderful but new baby here now," smiled the maid.

"Of course. Henry right?"

"Henry Gregory Bass." Blair emerged at the top of the steps, smiling down at her.

"Gregory as in Peck?"

"You know me too well Little J." Blair descended until the two women were face to face on equal footing. Dorota had vanished.

"Well, you were the closest thing I ever got to a mentor."

"Good. Because you were the closest I ever got to acquiring a protégé. Which brings us to the here and now."

"Blair-"

"About Chuck. I'm sorry I punished you and not him, but I think we can agree that leaving this city helped you considerably. I mean look at you. You're washing your hair again, you're not impersonating a racoon. I'm a mother now and apparently that makes me forgiving. So you're forgiven. Just... never mention it again.'"

"And you want me to work with you?"

"Better that than be my competition. And it'll be a learning experience for you – it'll be a launching pad for your own line in a few years time."

"Full control?"

"Full control. Now," as a gurgling noise filled the hall "come and meet Henry."

* * *

Dan almost crushed her with a bear hug when she walked into the new apartment he shared with Serena.

"Dude, seriously, I am fragile."

"No, you're tough." He relaxed his grip and proceeded to examine her. "It's good to have you back Little J."

"It's nice to be back, Gossip Girl."

"Jenny!" Serena flew in from one door and Rufus from another. As arms encircled her, she grinned across the room at her brother. Perhaps New York wasn't so bad after all.

Later, as the laughter and the glitter that inevitably preceded the holiday season swept the city, Jenny took a walk. She had forgotten how much she loved the city in the holidays, loved the cashmere sweaters, the boots and the cultural consumerism that drowned even the most cynical of residents. Now Rufus had moved to Lisa's townhouse, the loft was hers and that night she perched out on the fire escape, mug in hand, watching the lights across the water. Setting the dark on fire.

* * *

He knew she was back because everyone told him she would be there when they invited him to brunch, to dinner. He saw her in the photographs the interns picked for The Spectator's best dressed list. She had been back barely three weeks and was already making waves in the city, even if she did keep herself to herself, only attending family events, confining herself to her studio and apartment. Nate had not meant to avoid her but whilst working on The Spectator's holiday edition he'd spent the majority of the month running on coffee, barely leaving his office. They passed each other in separate cabs curving through the Manhattan traffic, ordered from the same takeout place and threw identical wistful glances at the ice skaters in Bryant Park. The city connected them by keeping them apart and sometimes out on her perch in Brooklyn she would fixate unknowingly on his office window.

They did not meet again until Thanksgiving.

"Sorry I'm late." Blair snorted and waved him in. Jenny stood outlined by the snow outside the window, talking to Serena about London. He scooped up a drink and joined them. Her eyes glittered.

"You came? Dan's cooking you know."

"I've tasted his cooking before. Really not that bad."

"Wow, I have missed a lot. Last time I was here his specialty was cranberry sauce."

"Oh that's still my specialty," Dan called. Nate winked and walked over to help his friend. "Stay away Archibald. No culinary disasters in my kitchen."

"You mean Blair's kitchen?"

"Who's the chef here?"

"Touché." Nate eyed a pecan pie. "Did you remember marshmallows?"

"Marshmallows?"

"Jenny likes them on her sweet potatoes." It was his tone that betrayed him, the tenderness unmistakeable and alien to his ears. Dan stared at him.

"Hey Waldorf? Do you have marshmallows?" His eyes did not leave Nate's as Blair called out an affirmative. Nate caved first, lids snapping closed, as the teen in him remembered every age old reason to stay away from Little Jenny Humphrey. Starting with her elder brother.

He touched her once during the evening, their fingers brushing as they tugged on the wishbone. She won and as Nate's eyes met Dan's across the table, she wished, silently. For a little happiness. Goodness knew they could use it.


	8. Outmanoeuvred and Outclassed

_February 2015_

"I have to get a private jet." Nate was disgusted. The delays at Heathrow were horrendous.

"Sir, I'm sure you understand that it's a busy time in New York-"

"I do. That's why I have to get there. Tonight." In the event a few well placed phone calls bounced him onto a new flight, but he barely made it to The Palace on time – contributing to Jenny's rocketing blood pressure.

"Where have you – you know what, I don't care. Put this on." He eyed the burgundy velvet suit with chagrin.

"Tell me – why isn't Chuck doing this?" Jenny quirked an eyebrow.

"Because he's happily married with a son. Hardly the city's most eligible bachelor." He peeled off his shirt and noted the dilation of her pupils as she looked away. He decided to tease her.

"How do you know I'm a bachelor? I might have a secret stash of girls somewhere in Brooklyn." Jenny looked back at him, planting a firm, cold hand upon his bare chest.

"The Spectator has a wider readership and more subscribers than the Times or the Journal. Ain't no way you did that with a girl on your arm." She walked away, her touch branded upon his skin. He watched her go, a habit he'd carried with him for as long as he could remember. So he was looking when another male model, in an overt show of masculinity, stretched out an arm and slid it around her waist.

"Brody! I'm working."

"I am your work." Grinning, she peeled away, all the while avoiding Nate's dumbstruck gaze. Clearly he had been out of town for too long.

* * *

"Blair, Blair I need a word." The designer frowned at him.

"Is it about the show?"

"Yes," he replied unhesitatingly. She followed him into a walk in closet. "Who's that Brody guy?"

"Nate."

"What?"

"That is not about the show. You're asking about Jenny. And you might want to button your shirt." Was he so obvious?

"Blair. Please." Mrs Bass idly remembered that the closet was similar to the one in which they'd shared their first kiss aged thirteen. Nate might have forgotten, but the memory nonetheless softened her.

"Alright." She took a deep breath. "Brody Weston. Recent NYADA graduate-"

"Great, a theatre guy. That's all I need."

"Will you stop? He met Jenny in one of those odd coffee shops in Brooklyn, although I can't imagine why people linger-"

"Blair."

"Sorry. Anyway they've been casually dating for a few weeks and we were short on male models. Have you seen his pectoral muscles?"

"I have pecs." Her smile was a touch too kindly.

"I know Dan scared you off. But did you seriously think that while you were cooped up in those offices she would pine for you? After your history with Vanessa, with Serena?"

"_Ancient_ history."

"The Egyptians built pyramids and they're still standing." Nate was confused.

"I built Jenny pyramids?"

"You gave her battle scars. I have to go." She moved to leave.

"Blair?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry if I ever scarred you." She smiled.

"Scars can be cute Nate. But I would never let you back in my bed, even if I wasn't married. Good luck anyway." He stood there until Rose, the model he was walking with, stuck her head around the door. Jenny caught them as they walked out, hands clasped, his shirt still unbuttoned.

"Hey Brody?" She kissed him fiercely. Nate averted his eyes and then without warning it was time to go on. The socialites salivated over the youngest Vanderbilt, though they wondered at his brooding. And as the lights came up on J for Waldorf's first show, as the bloggers hailed the collaboration as the most exciting partnership in fashion since Theyskens and Rosen, Vanya asked Nate why there were tears in his eyes.

"Tonight was all I had dude. All I had."


	9. I Could Never Rescue You

_July 2015_

Typically, it was Dan who found the tabloid, who broke the news to her but it was Chuck who phoned.

"Go to her."

"And say what, I'm sorry you date douchebags?"

"Nathaniel you once accepted money for sex."

"I thought we were non-judging?" Nate asked roughly.

"Precisely. Go to Jennifer."

* * *

The road to Brooklyn was long and unfamiliar. He had spent the best part of six months avoiding her, trying in vain to banish her from the edges of his dreams and trying to forget the feel of her fingers lightly resting above his heart. The friendship they had tentatively began to rebuild shortly after her return via snarky tweets and late night phone calls had all but collapsed. He had no idea if her relationship with Brody had been serious, knew only that the press had, since the latter's Broadway debut, harassed the pair at every turn, culminating in the photos splashed about today of him in the arms of his former dance teacher.

"It was just sex. With me and him I mean." It was the first thing out of her mouth once the door was opened. He squinted at her.

"You've been crying though."

"Because it sucks to be cheated on even if it was just sex."

"Can I come in?" She crossed her arms over her chest and he forced his eyes not to lower.

"Did you know?"

"I saw...I saw the photos yesterday morning," he said.

"Why didn't you buy them? Would have been quite a coup for The Spectator."

"I don't need to stoop that low to keep my paper in business. I wasn't about to exploit you."

"Why didn't you tell me? You hate Brody." Nate didn't bother to deny the charge.

"I didn't want to hurt you," he told her, honestly.

"I don't need you to rescue me."

"I wouldn't dream of trying."

She moved aside letting him into the loft. He smiled at the waffles and coffee on the breakfast counter. Some things never changed.

"Are you coming to the premiere?"

"It's Dan's big night. I'm not about to miss it because some jerk couldn't keep it in his pants. One request."

"Name it."

"Dump whoever you're taking and come as my date. I need to look as though I'm on top." If he closed his eyes he could hear fourteen year old Jenny again.

"Done."

* * *

She wore an old design that had never made it to the runway, a claret chiffon that matched her lipstick. He raised an eyebrow at her stiff unnatural posture in the car.

"Hey." He entwined his fingers with hers. "It'll be fine."

It was. She glowed in front of the cameras and he felt proud to fade in her light, to be seen on her arm.

"I'm going to push Brody off a building," Dan told his sister as she hugged him. "Or hire Chuck to do so, on my behalf."

"I'm fine."

"Uh huh." The writer stood aside as Jenny spotted an old acquaintance across the way. "Hey, Nate?"

"Yeah?"

"Look after her." Between the words Nate read Dan's blessing.

"Sure. And the movie was great man. A real classic."

* * *

Jenny was teasing him about a group of fangirls peering over at him, when a familiar looking one interrupted them.

"So are you guys dating now?" Jenny tutted.

"Me and Archibald? Why would I date one of my oldest friends?" A door which had been momentarily opened, swung shut again, ignoring his hand, finally poised to knock. Laughing off the seeming flippancy behind her words, she took his elbow and led him away from the mini Serena.

Nate bit his lip. Blair, Serena, Jenny. For someone who'd once been a heartbreaker, he'd been left heartbroken surprisingly often.


	10. Don't Wish, Don't Start

_December 2015_

After Rufus proposed to Lisa it was she who turned inward to her work, her studio and apartment, which lay covered with sketches and samples. Some nights he joined her in the loft, watching her create as he filled her in on the outside world. They'd arrived at the stage in their friendship where it was possible for them to eat side by side by side in a comfortable, communicative silence once more. Yet he never stayed over, no matter the time and the presence of spare beds.

"I have a garage door in my bedroom if its privacy you're worried about," she joked. He rolled his eyes, rising to leave.

"You need sleep and if I stay we'll end up debating the virtues of Twilight and Harry Potter."

"I regret the vampire phase of my life."

"As do we all." He kissed her on the cheek, ignoring the fact that she jumped a little at his touch.

One evening he walked into her studio and found her alone in a wedding dress. It was floaty, feminine and he could not quite discern the thin barely there straps on her already pale skin. It only hit her mid thigh.

"Wow." She turned crimson at the sight of him and instantly disappeared to change, her face still glowing when she reappeared clad in ordinary clothing. "Is that the dress?"

"No, Lisa wanted something more non traditional – it's not her first wedding. Or you know, Dad's. That was just a possibility we considered early on." She paused. "I was bored."

"Uh huh."

* * *

At the wedding he danced with her as much as possible, marvelling at how her burgundy bridesmaids dress served to make her appear even taller than she was. He wondered when he'd become so pathetic.

"You'd think it was tenth grade again, watching those two," Blair nodded at Nate and Jenny, who were trying to keep a respectable amount of space between their bodies. Chuck pressed his lips to his wife's forehead.

"They need the space to fit all of the sexual tension in." The two singletons wound up with another bottle of champagne at Lily's table. Jenny's former stepmother looked oddly radiant, considering she was sitting at her ex husband's wedding reception.

"It's almost enough to get you to believe in love again." Jenny frowned.

"Or not. This is Dad's third wedding."

"That's really not all that many." Nate choked a little on his drink. "Look, I know it's hard for you two kids to believe but...sometimes you have to throw lots of stuff at the wall and see what sticks. And you just go with it, even if what sticks is the craziest, most unexpected thing, because finding your soulmate is not about fate or destiny. It's about being brave enough to try again." Her gaze lingered on Rufus as she spoke. And Nate and Jenny found themselves incredibly aware of each other.

* * *

He gave her a ride in his town car, Robert his driver not asking why he felt the need to go out of his way to Brooklyn. They walked up to the loft together, Jenny turning to face him at the door. Her lips parted.

"Nate." His phone rang. He glanced down at the screen.

"It's one of my reporters." Her long, lithe fingers wrapped around his wrist.

"Don't answer."


	11. A Friend Indeed

_February 2016_

He was not asked to model that year. Perhaps the market for eligible bachelors had worn thin.

"You're still not invited," Blair told him, when he called on the morning of the show.

"Relax. I was just calling to wish you guys good luck. Would you at least tell her that?"

"I have a major label to run here. It is not my job to clear up the mess you made."

"I took a call."

"There's such a thing as timing. Listen, I have to go, one of the models' eyebrows has rubbed off. Just talk to Jenny."

She had not been the same since Scott's death, working as hard as usual but partying hard too. He regretted his former complaints about her social restraint now that he was forced to run bi weekly pictures of her perched on the arm of the lead singer of some indie band who by the next week, the next club, had transformed into a bearded British writer who Nate had never heard of before.

* * *

Eventually they salvaged their friendship with business and crispy duck pancakes. He gave her an extraordinary amount of publicity in The Spectator after Fashion Week and in return she stood up a European footballer and turned up with Chinese at his office, confessing that she'd missed him and suggesting they both accepted that the romance thing would never work out between them. It was the closest they ever came to burying it and for a while they both believed their efforts had worked. She set him up with numerous fresh faces from the fashion world and in return he suggested her label to possible, interested investors.

The only people their newly christened friendship did not convince were their friends. Blair and Dan had taken to brunching especially to discuss the dysfunctional twosome.

"Your sister tried to set him up with a street photographer," Blair said, wrinkling up her nose. "I mean...urgh."

"Hey, you can take the girl out of Brooklyn..."

"Oh yes," Their eyes met over the pain au chocolat. "I know, but everyone can see it apart from the two of them."

"They wouldn't be the first to be too scared of a relationship to risk going after it." Blair dropped her gaze.

"That would be tragic."

"To miss your only shot at happiness and have to settle? Yeah. Yeah I should think so."


	12. Wishing Only Wounds The Heart

_May 2016_

Henry was thrilled when Uncle Nate and Aunt Jenny decided to take him out for the day because he knew that the former would take him to Chelsea Harbour to see the boats and would let him eat cupcakes until he burst and that the latter would make him new bowties and waffles on request and even take him to her Brooklyn loft, which was what Henry imagined Santa's grotto looked like.

"Why is Daddy sad Uncle Nate?"

"Oh I'm sure he's fine. Maybe he's just tired."

"But Mommy's sad too." Jenny walked over with plates of chilli.

"Well honey, if no one ever got sad then they'd never be happy either. And what fun would that be?"

They watched a backlog of Disney Renaissance movies that Jenny kept stockpiled especially for Henry's benefit. She had a thing, Nate noted, for fairytales. The boy had already fallen asleep by the time a subdued Arthur turned up to collect him.

"I need more chilli," Nate muttered.

"Do you think she'll leave him?"

"Nope. She's not brave enough for that and she's had a child with him. And I don't see Dan kicking Serena out. She doesn't even suspect. Actually, neither does Chuck, aside from the other man part."

"Right. Damn." She rose and joined him at the breakfast counter. "Tell me, why does everyone we know settle for empty relationships? I mean my Dad and Lily, Blair and Dan..."

Nate smiled at her sadly.

"I don't think happiness was ever on the menu."


	13. If I Didn't Believe In You

_Christmas 2016_

"I need to talk to you." He eyed her warily, conscious that she was using the tone usually reserved for drunken declarations of love, which were less drunken than he dared hope to believe.

"No," she said at his expression, "no nothing like that, I am completely sober." She waved her drink in his face. "See? Sparkling water."

"What's up?" He shifted a little along the fire escape so she could fit her longer limbs through the window with ease. Her hair, he noticed had gotten longer and paler so that she resembled old school New Yorker Jenny more closely. Rufus and Lisa had taken over the loft for the duration of the festivities and their entire social circle had filled up Jenny's home. He thought that the young, blonde introvert had handled the situation with some grace.

"There's a vacancy in town." Nate smiled.

"Ah. The Mayor thing."

"You're running for it right? You have to run. You have to."

"I'm ridiculously young."

"So was Barack Obama."

"I'm not as cool as Obama."

"Oh I'm sorry, did he lose his virginity to Serena van der Woodsen?"

"It wouldn't surprise me if he had." They exploded with laughter, disturbing the unusually quiet Brooklyn night.

"Nate," she said, once they'd quietened. "I know how scared you are of turning into your parents but none of the Vanderbilts would take such a risk politically, to run with so little experience. And the city really does need you."

"Even without political experience."

"No one knows New York City better. What we need, what's great and what's terrible – you know it all. You could be the next Bloomberg and even more successful to boot. Hey." She nudged his foot with hers. "Do it for me."

"Anything for you." His eyes spoke volumes.

"Hey!" They jerked apart suddenly, abruptly guilty for no reason. An excited Eric came into view, bobbing up and down at the window. "Where the hell have you two been? Dan just proposed to Serena."

When Nate walked back into the loft he was surer of the prospect of his mayoral bid. But he was also sure, looking from the empty smiles on Dan and Serena's faces to the broken one on Blair's and the disinterested, unseeing expression on Chuck's, that the single man's life was very much for him. For love, in all the forms it took around him, was clearly too twisted, too hollow, too superficial to be worth it.


	14. Neither Father, Nor Brother

_Spring 2017_

Jenny derived more pleasure through dressing Henry Bass for the wedding than she did anyone else. He could look adorable in bin liner. But Dan's hair made her hang her head in shame and Serena had decided on a dress partially made from the bridal equivalent of golden spandex that, however fitting could not be made prettier through any amount of tulle Jenny attached to it.

"Oh well," sighed Blair. "At least not many people will be subjected to this...monstrosity." Dressing herself, on the morning of a day that would eventually disappear in history also proved a little strange for Jenny. Looking at her long, lithe golden clad form in the mirror, she was abruptly reminded of a younger version of herself. It was clearly the length of her hair and she'd also been playing around with the colour too...so she threw on a little eyeliner, for old times sake.

"Playing with fire J," Eric said when he saw her come down the stairs. "Nothing good happens when you break out the mascara."

"Well, maybe it's time to change that particular tradition." Serena had almost finished getting ready when Jenny had been struck by some much needed, last minute inspiration. That the shoes were all wrong had been obvious but she'd been willing to let that pass as the dress would have covered them up.

Yet Serena's outfit lacked a focal point, somewhere for the eye to rest – and the designer in Jenny was not about to let that job fall to her soon to be sister in law's reflective bodice. In record time she managed to swing by the Waldorf headquarters to pick up a pair of nude heels and the shoebox of memories she kept in her locked bottom drawer. She had moved it from the loft because Nate now spent so much time there, watching a movie, eating waffles in the kitchen and sleeping on the opposite side of the garage door, that she no longer felt safe allowing something so emotive to lie around. At work at least, she was in complete control.

Inside were photographs that she'd printed off Gossip Girl; of the night of Blair's seventeenth birthday, of her guerrilla fashion show, of Cotillion – all her happiest moments with Nate. There was the photo she'd ripped from his neck the day of his nineteenth birthday and a movie ticket stub too. And there, underneath the mask from a masquerade ball she still wasn't sure if she regretted attending, lay the bracelet. The one Blair had unexpectedly returned to her the day after said ball, the one that she'd kept because it reminded her of the warmth and voice of a handsome junior.

She ran into him in the elevator on the way back to Blair's. The smoky eyes and long hair prompted a double take from the ever smooth potential mayor.

"You're late."

"I'm not the one dressing the bride." The elevator doors opened and swallowed her reply.

She curved up the stairs, leaving him below, running into her mother on the landing. "Mom?"

"Hmm? Oh I was just looking around." Or avoiding Lily. After all this time. She strolled into the bridal boudoir and found, to her surprise, no sign of Blair.

"It's so cute!" Serena exclaimed as she produced the bracelet from her bag. "Is it vintage?"

"Um, sure." If 2007 could be considered vintage.

* * *

The wedding was farcical in nature, as farcical as Chuck and Blair's. They made their excuses early and sat for hours in a late night ice cream parlour.

"We're all doomed. Everyone's unhappy," she told him, while he laughed manically. "We're all doomed." And he leaned over and kissed her. In that moment, he could see clearly her face when he presented her with his grandmother's ring, her wedding dress of her own creation, her slim and votive arms cupped around their newborn daughter. He could see them cooking together in the loft and counting stars from the fire escape. Both that and the garage door would come in useful when arguing. And after they made up she would read to him, because whilst he'd never been able to sit and read, Nate Archibald would find himself cultivating an appreciation for literature. Who knew. But in that moment all they did was kiss.

It was his apartment they stumbled into, his bed that they found themselves in and suddenly their frenzy slowed and both were conscious of the fact that it was their first time together and that this moment, for all sorts of historical reasons of subtext, needed to be given the care and awe it deserved. And neither he, who had experienced it all, nor she who had experienced very little, ever forgot that night.

* * *

At first, when he opened his eyes to the cold light of day, he thought she'd left. But the smells of waffles led him to his usually untouched kitchen.

"You're here." And then, as she turned towards him – "you cut your hair."

"I had an early appointment and my stylist is fussy. Your doorman let me in again." She handed him a coffee, knowing how he took it without asking.

"You're...not wearing make-up." She smiled at him, a bittersweet, nostalgic smile that made him fearful of what she was about to say.

"Nate, I'm not that girl anymore. Maybe I was trying to be last night, or for the last few months but that's not who I am."

"I know. I know who you are." She was tough, classy, professional . She was a hard worker whose ideal Saturday was spent in her Brooklyn apartment with muffins and a sketchpad. He knew who she was better than she did. Perhaps that was why she had so much difficulty in meeting his eyes.

"You're running for mayor. You can't afford to –"

"Right, because Americans like their politicians single. Look, I'll protect you from the press."

"Ah yes, my knight in shining Armani."

"Dan always did have a way with words. Although I don't see why he was so surprised-" She interrupted, focusing upon the curve of his nose in an effort to elude his gaze.

"We agreed to avoid this."

"Lily told us to try."

"Oh great, now we're taking relationship advice from Lily Van der Woodsen. That's hardly a reason for me to stay."

"Stay because I love you."

"Yeah and I've always loved you Nate, but it's never really helped." He focused upon the first, miraculous part of the statement, rising and walking away leaving her feeling utterly helpless. Tears began to prick at the corners of her eyes, and she placed her palms upon the kitchen counter in an effort to support herself. When he reappeared he placed a fraying, faded envelope at the tips of her fingers.

"Oh my...the letter? I cannot believe you still have this."

"Ask me again. Why you should stay, I mean." His jaw was set. She lowered the letter back onto the countertop.

"Why should I stay?"

His answer remained long after the envelope had fluttered to the floor, long after they had returned, ever entwined, to bed.

"Why should I stay Nate?"

"Because."


End file.
